Inner Torment
by ParrotPie
Summary: Starts of somewhere after the first movie. Jack being delirious, Norrington helps.   If you read, pls. tell me what you think!


**A/N:** This is something I wrote a very long time ago. I never really thought about posting it here, nor anywhere. But today, all of sudden, I felt like doing it, anyway.

Also I'd like to apologize for my English, which is far from perfect; just in case anybody is ever going to read this.

**Disclaimer:** Disney owns them all. Well, almost.

**Part I **

It was cold. Terribly cold. Even behind the firm walls of the Fort Charles the cold was unbearable, breathtaking, although the wind couldn't reach through the thick stone.

As Port Royal wasn't used to such harsh climate the few windows that allowed a little air and during the day also light to fill the prison couldn't be shut to keep the merciless cold out, which now crept unhindered through the tiny wholes in the thick stone, under each already lying a small pile of white flakes, steadily growing.

In one of the four cells sat a person huddled up in a dark corner, clutching his legs to his body, in a desperate attempt to save the last bit warmth left in it.

Silent tears streamed down the prisoner's face, as he shivered violently, his knuckles turning white from holding on the tattered fabric of his thin shirt for too long.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress a moan as a new wave of pain flooded through his wracked body, causing new tears to fall down his cheeks, making him hate himself for being so weak.

A sudden noise made the man leap up to his feet. He stood pressed against the cold wall, sobbing in fear and agony, hands clutching his badly hurt side, gasping for air, his eyes wide in shock.

After a few seconds his knees buckled and with a small desperate yelp he fell back onto the hard floor. Whimpering in pain as his sore back connected deliberately with the wall behind him.

As he lay there, unable to move, from having pain all flooding through his scrawny frame, he couldn't suppress the sobs any longer and wept freely, eyes growing puffy and red, his head throbbing viciously.

When there seemed no more tears left to cry and his throat had gone raw from coughing, he slowly sat back up, shaking all over, head spinning.

He gingerly rubbed his swollen eyes, wincing slightly in pain. When his finger came back black stained with old, and now wet, kohl he again had to suppress the urge to cry, which made him want to cry even more. He had never felt so humiliated, even though no one was there to see him cry.

He couldn't take it any more. His whole body screamed for mercy he could not give; would never been given again. He wanted to die. It wasn't the first time he felt like dying would be a good option, but he had never wanted it so badly. Though he had been through worse, at least that's what he thought.

He glanced around the dim cell, his eyes searched for something solid, where he could ... suddenly he clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaming out loud, eyes wide in utter shock, as he saw a from his seated position seemingly big looking shadow on the opposite wall of the corridor and his damaged brain somehow connected it with a giant monster which had come to eat him.

"P'bably some silly ol' rat ...", he mumbled, trying to relax himself, though his voice coming out in a husky whisper sounding anything but himself didn't help at all.

He sighed deeply, regretting it immediately for his throat burned like Hell. He whimpered and curled himself in a small ball, taking in his former composure.

Shaking from pain he deciding that killing himself would have to wait, if death wouldn't claim him before anyway, allowing him to finally leave this horrible place behind. Forever.

Not that he had imagined his life to end like this, he always had imagined him to go down with his ship, his only one true love. To sink down the deep blue depths of the sea together with his black lady, arms clutched around the dark wood.

He inhaled a sharp breath and pressed his hands against his eyes, he really had to stop crying.

"_They betrayed you ... they always did ... everybody does ...",_ some strange voice in his head whispered making him slam a fist against his aching brain in an useless attempt to make it go away.

It wouldn't, he knew. It would stay just like the cold, like the pain, like the fear, guiding him towards Hell, his final resting place.

He just hoped he would meet _them_ there, so he could torture every single one of_ them_. Punish _them_. Them. His former crew. His _mutinous_ former crew.

He had trusted them. Had believed they wouldn't do something like that to him. No after ...

"_You're just a bloody awful captain ..._", the voice in his head mocked him, causing him to slam his head against the hard stone wall behind him.

He once again pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, aching head resting on his knees, shaking violently, for sitting like that was the only posture he could bear.

"_They did right to you and you know it .. you deserve nothing better than this ..._"

"Shut up" he growled, trying to ignore the pang in his throat.

"You _betrayed them, not the other way around, just accept it ._."

"Shut. Up."

"_You betrayed them, you betrayed your ship and even your friends, not that you had friends at all .."_

"Shut up!"

"_You shouldn't have done -_"

"SHUT UP!", he nearly screamed, jumping to his feed, for once ignoring the pain that shot through his system, hands covering his ears, as he staggered to the opposite wall of his humble space, where he slumped down again, breathing heavily, hands still covering his ears, eyes closed.

"Please ... please ... ", he whispered, hands moving down to once again be wrapped around his lean waist, holding on tight.

"_See what a miserable captain you are? Giving up ... wanting to die .. you brought this all over yourself ... it's your fault, yours alone .._"

"Please ..." he sobbed, eyes squeezed shut as new tears treated to fall, "... stop ..."

"_Your fault ..._"

"They betrayed me!" he shouted, his voice shaking from the tears. "I didn't bloody do anything!"

"_Well, and that's were your fault lies .._" the voice told him sweetly, mocking him.

He shook his head, pressed his hands to his ears, to his eyes. His whole body shaking.

"Go away, go away, go bloody away, please ..." he begged, unable to think clear. "Go, please .."

"_Your fault!_" the voice inside his head screamed once again, and with that he finally lost consciousness, letting himself fall into the black abyss of lifeless sleep.

**Part II**(should be revised)

Cold. It was cold. Cold and dark. Again. Or still?

He hadn't died ... not yet ... "Why am I fuckin' still alive?", he grumbled, not knowing to whom he had spoken, but yet relived when no one answered him.

A little snowflake landed on his pale hand, making him realize that he particularly sat below the tiny window of his cell, snow lying everywhere around him, saving his body's warmth and yet making him shiver.

Painfully slow he got up, carefully stretching his stiff muscles, and moved to his previous place, where he fell down on his knees, panting viciously, ashamed and furious that his body was in such a pitiful state.

"_You're just a bloody awful Captain.._" he thought grimly, and immediately shoved the thought away, but knowing that the voice had been right. He was an awful captain. Or rather, had been.

After his breathing had once again slowed down he heaved himself in a sitting position, facing the barred front side of his cell, sweat dripping from his forehead despite the cold.

He closed his eyes, head resting on his knees, legs pressed against his chest, desperately trying to relax despite the damn cold, hoping he could find some sleep again.

He had almost fallen asleep when he heard someone come down the stairs, slowly, unmistakably, causing him to sit up straight, trembling in fear.

He suddenly had the strong urge to vomit, although his stomach was empty.

He pressed himself further in his corner, attempting to be invisible.

The figure stood, looking around the corridor as if searching something.

"Perhaps he hasn't come for me after all, perhaps he has just forgotten something" he tried to calm himself, not believing his own thoughts.

He pressed his lips together to suppress a fearful whimper threating to betray him, and eyed the naval man carefully.

In the dim light he could only make out a white wig, a long bony face, and small shoulders wrapped in a heavy blue navy coat, but he couldn't identify the person.

He shuddered. A small wine escaped his mouth as he pressed his brutalized back against the unforgiving stone. A hand flew to his mouth, eyes wide in shock as the man in the corridor turned to face him, locking his eyes with his, starring unmovingly at him, mouth hanging slightly open.

Then the man turned around and ran back up the stairs, leaving him with a puzzled expression on his face.

Slowly he let his body relax and he leaned back, closing his eyes and tried to sleep once more, shoving the thought away that the man might as well come back.

He hoped that death would claim him this time, leading him to another place without all the horrid agony, back to his ship, his friends ... Friends?

"_You don't have a ship anymore, and no friends, you betrayed them, you left them do die ..._", the mocking voice inside his head reminded him.

"No ...", he said in a small frightened voice, shaking his head to make the voice go away, although he knew it was no use.

"_You're a bloody coward, you left them do die, you selfish bastard!_"

"Damn you!" he shouted leaping up, just to fall back to the dirty floor as his legs wouldn't carry him.

"Fuck!" he hissed, new tears flooding down his cheeks, it seemed like he wasn't able to stop crying at all.

"_You are so damn weak you were never worthy of that ship._"

"_He_ never deserved her, _he_ hurt her ..", he mumbled senselessly unaware of what he was saying, "She misses me, she always does, people always take me away from her, hurt her, hurt me, us ... but I haven't done anything to anyone, I never have -"

"_You hurt everyone around you. Just quit whining .. you deserve every evil in this world, and you know it .._.", the voice screamed, now sounding oddly like himself.

"Hurt, cold, damn cold .. just leave me ... haven't done anything..." he murmured, slamming his head so hard against the wall that he felt blood run down his forehead, into his eyes, staining his tears red. But he didn't bother to wipe them away, he didn't care.

Sobbing he curled himself up in a small ball, rocking slowly back and forth, babbling to himself without making any sense.

He didn't even look up when he heard someone open the door to his cell and enter, didn't stir as someone placed a warm hand on his shoulder, didn't open his eyes as someone gently took his chin in another warm hand and lifted it up.

Only as that someone made move to scoop him in his arms, he voiced a small protest and tried to crawl away, still without opening his eyes.

He heard a soft voice say something soothingly. In his confused state of mind he was unable to comprehend what, but yet he stopped his attempts to get away and let himself be lifted in strong warm arms and carried away.

**Part III**

When he opened his eyes again, everything was bright around him. The ache was gone and he felt as strong and healthy as ever.

"I'm dead," he thought and all at once he didn't feel so good anymore.

He looked around, searching for something, anything in the damned white nothingness that surrounded him, but found – of course – nothing.

"So that's what it feels like to be dead," he said to himself, his voice not sounding hoarse at all.

He had never felt so small in his life, so insignificant, and never so alone.

Even after he had been marooned on a godforsaken island mere years ago he hadn't felt so alone and helpless.

He felt very much like crying, but wasn't able to even produce a single tear.

He shivered, wanting nothing more than to be back in his cell. He even missed the cold and the breathtaking agony, since being in physical pain meant being alive.

He jumped as he felt a heavy hand resting on his shoulder urging him to turn around. As he did so, he stood face to face with a man he had once called his father. Once, many years ago, before that bastard had left his mother and him, for a reason always unknown to him.

He starred at the surprisingly still black haired man with a grim look on his face.

They stood like that for what seemed a small eternity, facing each other, nobody wanting to look away first.

"Is this Hell?" he asked, although he somehow knew that answer would be 'no'.

"Nah lad, tis not Hell", his father told him in an slow, deep somehow old voice.

"So, whatcha doin' here? " he asked without breaking eye-contact, wondering why his father was in any other place than Hell, should 'Hell' exist, that was.

"Could ask ya th' same, lad", his father chuckled, instead of answering his question, voice coming out in a low rumble, soothing him in a really annoying way, he didn't want his fucking father's voice to sooth him, why was he angry anyway?

"So you're dead, eh?" he figured, still not sure why his father was here with him.

"Yep, kind of at least." again that soothing voice.

"Am I dead?" he asked softly, finally looking away, fearing the answer might be 'yes'.

"Nope, at least only kind of", his father said, a small smile playing around his lips.

He looked back at him, puzzled.

"See, yer body is particularly dead, but your soul somehow is not, not that your soul can die at all, but ... never mind ..." he trailed off.

"And that means!"

"Well, since your soul somehow refuses to die - "

"Refuses to die?"

"Since it refuses to die, you are given the chance to get back to the living, if ya want to, that is ..."

"_If you want to_ ..." he thought, "Do I?"

"_Course you don't you bloody coward, being dead is much easier than being alive, and you haven't anything to life for anyway ..._" the never-leaving voice in his head mocked him.

"Oh, shut up", he groaned, shaking his head as his father examined him critically.

"Never mind." His father cocked his head.

"You don't want to know".

"Oh, I'm sure I don't", he smiled knowingly at his son.

"So what 'bout all this stuff? Bein' dead an' all?"

"I told ya", his father said, still smiling at him, talking in a way one would talk to an idiot, just escaped nuthouse.

He pulled a face, "What if I wanna live?" he asked, hating himself for sounding so curious.

"Ah ... it's quite simple really, see, your soul didn't want to die, because there must be one thing left on earth that keeps you alive, one thing you wanna do, or maybe someone you love, somebody you care for ...", he paused, looking at his son curiously, when said son just stared unmovingly at him he continued, "Well, so all ya have t'do is to tell _me_ what makes you wanna live so bad, and you'll live, totally, just like any normal person, till your time's up ..."

He stared at his father, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, mind racing.

"I ... I haven't anything to life for", he stammered after a while, "I ..", he swallowed, "I wanted to die."

He looked to the floor. That damned _white_ floor.

"I ... my crew ... they betrayed me, left me ... I don't know, I was an awful captain .. didn't deserve better .."

"_That's right ..._" the voice agreed with him, "... _bloody coward!_"

Without warning his father backhanded him, leaving a red stain on his cheek.

"What was that for?" he exclaimed shocked, "Are you mad?"

"Nope, you are." his father told him, looking deadly serious. "And you're wasting my time."

He gave him a puzzled look.

"My dear son, you are here because you wanted to live so don't tell me you don't want to anymore, alright? And figure out that damned reason, which made you holding onto life so badly, cos I won't wait forever."

After a short pause he added, in a voice that didn't sound like him at all, " ... _your fault!_"

He winced in shock and slowly turned around, facing nothing but the endless white surrounding him.

"Your bloody fault!" the voice he knew all to well screamed again, and with that all the white around him disappeared and he fell into a black abyss of nothingness.

**Part IV**

"Is he dead?" he heard someone asking, the voice sounding concerned.

"No, sir," another voice answered, "Though, I am not sure if he will last the night."

Then, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you, doctor," the first voice sighed, "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome, Commodore", at hearing this he tried to open his eyes, however, without much success, for his eyelids were just too heavy.

And suddenly he felt the overwhelming agony that flooded through his system, bringing wet liquid to his eyes, and made him wail in misery.

He squirmed around, nearly falling out of the small bed he occupied, smashing his head against the headboard of the wooden frame of his cot.

He stilled his attempts to fight of the horrid pain, as a restraining hand rested on his shoulder, gently pressing him down on the mattress.

"Shh, it's alright", that familiar voice soothed him, amazingly calming him down, and taking away at least a little bit of the pain.

Encouraged by this he decided that it was time for another try to open his eyes, so he slowly cracked on eye open and carefully looked around, afraid that that blasted light might still be somewhere, just waiting for him to open his eyes, so it could torture him again.

After he had found out that this wasn't the case he opened his other eye as well and looked around warily.

"Oh, you're awake!" that voice exclaimed happily, causing him to look up in order to see the speaker.

As he turned his gaze upwards he found himself looking into deep green orbs, decidedly too familiar to him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pretending not to be awake at all, trembling all over.

"You don't need to be afraid", Commodore Norrington said.

"I'm ... not ... never ..." he croaked weakly, hating himself for sounding so defeated, his throat burning.

Oh, how he longed for a little bit of water, even a drop would do to lessen the pain.

But his dignity wouldn't allow him to ask for the little favor.

"Damn the damn pride", he thought grimly, but still didn't open his mouth to voice the simple question.

He coughed bringing blood to his lips, shuddering violently.

And that was the first time it dawned him that things were very bad indeed.

"._.. I don't know if he will last the night _..", he shivered as he realized that he probably was going to die, very soon too, wouldn't be able to see another dawn, another day and a new wave of sobs wracked his body. "_... at least kind of..._" the voice of his dead father echoed through his head. Had he been dead, or just dreaming?

Again he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, comforting, reassuring.

"Shh, come on now, it's alright, come on now" said Norrington in his damnable soothing voice.

He didn't want any comfort, not from a bloody navy officer, who wanted nothing more than to hang him. At least _should_ want nothing more than that. Was supposed too. Orders. Commands. Disobey... They disobeyed him, why did people always do that? Had they?

"_That's right, you don't deserve any comfort at all!_" the voice in his head joined in, interrupting his musings leading into nowhere. But for once he ignored it, too busy with being angry at Norrington and staying conscious at the same time, shoving his thoughts away.

"Come on, please ..." Norrington's voice grew desperate.

"Please, oh God, please what can I do?" he asked, sounding nothing like himself anymore.

"Shut up", he thought, but was too weak to voice this, so he settled on a croaked "Water" for the moment.

Immediately he felt a cool cup being pressed to his lips, and soon after warm water flowing down his sore throat.

After the cup had been removed he closed his eyes sighing contently.

"Sparrow...", that annoying commodore again. He cracked one eye open.

"wa..?"

"Are you all right?" Norrington looked truly concerned, decidedly too concerned for a commodore of the Royal Navy. A commodore shouldn't be concerned over the wellbeing of a pirate at all, he figured.

On first impulse Jack wanted to nod, just to make him leave, but the pain won over and so he shook weakly his head.

"No."

"Is there anything I can do?" Norrington asked, voice once again sounding desperate.

"No."

"Ja-" Norrington started, stopping immediately as he noticed what he was going to say, looking at the floor.

"Well, if there's nothing I can do, I'll be on my way", he said to the floor, "Good night, Mr. Sparrow."

He got up and left the room.

Jack closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Sleeping seemed to be the only thing he wanted lately.

**Part V**

"Jack," he heard someone calling, "Jack, lad."

He turned around to once again face his father, not daring to ask what he was doing here – again-, or if he was dead knowing that the answer would be positive this time.

"Why am I here?" he asked instead, although he didn't care for the answer either.

"Shouldn't I be somewhere else now that I'm dead?" He looked to the floor, refusing to meet his father's gaze and was surprised to find that the floor wasn't white as he had expected it to be, but rather brown. Brown like wood.

"Nay lad, you're not dead, you're dreamin'. Got a nice fellow watchin' over ya I must say, good boy he is." he added, smiling as his son looked at him in disgust.

"Wouldn't call him a _nice_ fellow, really .." he said unsmilingly, looking around the small room they were standing in.

It was a small room indeed, with no luxury at all.

There was a small closet, a shelf with a only one book on it – a Bible he imagined – and a humble cot which, he noticed to his horror, was occupied by him.

He gasped in shock as he saw the condition he was in.

Bandages were all wrapped around his body and he wore only his breeches, how he knew he couldn't tell for there were blankets wrapped around his body, covering him up to his chin.

His forehead was neatly wrapped in a not-so white cloth, replacing his red bandanna, that was usually tied around his head.

But despite the bandage one could see the nasty wound below it and his cheeks were still red from the blood that had flown down from the gash.

He swallowed, eyes traveling further down his body, for he miraculously was able to look through the thick, woolen blankets. There was another wound on the left side of his torso, rather shallow but it still wouldn't stop bleeding.

His back was a bloody mess, it looked like he had been repeatedly flogged, but he couldn't remember anything of the sort.

"_Why_ am I not dead?" he thought, thinking that he looked as if he should be.

"Don't fret lad, it will go over, that lovely Commodore will watch over ya, you know. Everything will be alright."

And with that he vanished, leaving Jack looking around in puzzlement.

Suddenly the world went black, and seconds later he woke up, his body cold and aching and

he once more wanted to be dead.

"Dad..." he croaked weakly, feeling utterly alone, just like on that day when his mother had told him that his father would never come back again.

**Part VI**

When he woke up it was still dark outside. "God, will this night ever end?" he thought, longing to see the sun again.

He struggled to sit up, and after a few failures he managed to stay in a half-seated position, entire body protesting.

He sighed, this would never do.

Slowly and very carefully not to inflect his body any further pain Jack leaned against the narrow headboard of his bed, wincing when his sore back connected with the rough wood.

But the pain was tolerable.

After a while he started coughing,and he coughed and coughed and coughed. He wasn't able to stop.

Cough after cough wracked his torn body, making his throat burn and his head throbbing violently.

When the coughs finally subsided his eyes were wet and he felt like loosing consciousness, over and over again nearly drowning in the inviting darkness.

He felt sick, but knew that his stomach was empty, just like hours ago and that he wouldn't be able to bring anything up, which made it even worse.

The agony flooding through his system was breathtaking, as bad as it had been hours before.

His head seemed like it would explode every moment, his forehead burned like the brand on his arm had as the cruel officer of the East India Company had pressed the hot red iron poker deep in his flesh many years ago.

He coughed again, bringing new blood to his lips and this time he knew it for sure – he was going to die.

And oddly he didn't feel like crying at all, he was perfectly alright with knowing his life would end, after suffering so much pain, after all the misery he had endured during his hard and brutal life. Far away from his love. His ship.

He let his heavy eyelids fall over his tired eyes, drifting off into a restless sleep soon.

**Last Part**

As a soft sunray danced across his pale face, he weakly opened his eyes looking around, confused. And not for the first time he wondered why he was still alive.

He looked out of the small window and saw much to his astonishment the sun slowly rise, bathing the whole world in a warm orange light.

Seeing this a smile slowly formed on his face, his heart suddenly feeling light and carefree.

He was happy. At peace.

As fast as his body's injuries would allow him he got up and staggered to the window, ignoring the hot waves of pain wracking through his system.

He stood there at the window deathly white hands clutching the rim of the window, ignoring the coughs shaking his body, ignored the throbbing pain in his head, just starred out at the sea, shining golden in the soft morning light.

It was so beautiful he felt tears spring to his still swollen eyes, but he didn't mind the wetness running down his cheeks.

"Jack", the voice of Norrington called form behind, startling him a little."You really should rest."

He just shook his head – no.

He even didn't turn around when he heard Norrington approach him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the perfect scene before his eyes.

Only as the commodore rested lightly a hand on his shoulder he spun around, "What?" he almost yelled, his voice still horribly hoarse.

As he got no answer he once again turned his eyes to the sea, ignoring his body's pleadings to finally lie down again.

Suddenly out of nowhere appeared a black sharp of a ship on the horizon and without being able to see it properly he recognized the ship.

It was his _Pearl_ his first and only true love. The only lover that hadn't betrayed him, he thought sadly, but was often used to betray him anyway.

A new though washed the grim ones away as his damaged mind finally registered what the appearance of his ship meant.

"They've come for me!" he whispered, not caring that Norrington, who still had a hand resting on his shoulder could hear him, "They really did!"

He had never felt so happy in his life, never so relived. He wanted to burst out laughing and crying at the same time. Silent tears already streaming down his face.

"They came...for...me..." he whispered once more, and with that the last bit of life left his body, letting it sack lifeless into Norrington's arms.

Norrington sadly looked down at the fallen captain, lying in his arms, cheeks wet, a small smile on his lips, knowing that he had to tell a pirate crew that they had come to late, that their beloved captain, a man he had always respected, was already dead. Died in his arms, he thought grimly whipping a tear from his face angrily. He wouldn't, couldn't cry for a pirate. Not even for the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. "..savvy", he thought sadly and more tears threatening to escape his eyes.

He shook his head to clear his vision and carefully scooped Jack's lifeless form in his arms and carried him over the the bed, covering him with the blankets and left the room, walking down to the harbor, to tell the loyal pirate crew that their captain had just died.

It would break his heart, he knew.

Jack stood with his father at the dock, watching as his ship slowly approached, a sad smile playing around his lips.

They hadn't betrayed him, they had kept to the code, just like he had told Gibbs to, and now they had come for him, proving him how much friends they were to Jack.

"I told ya lad, everything will be alright", his father said quietly watching his son carefully.

"I know", Jack sighed, "I just really would have liked to say 'thank you' to Master Gibbs." He smiled sadly, looking at his father.

"I know lad, I know, I'd like to have said a lot more to ya two before I left this world, too, but I wasn't allowed to. There a things we just have to accept for we cannot change them.

Even if it seems horribly hard."

Jack looked away and squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to fight of the tears, he knew wouldn't come.

He nearly jumped as he felt his fathers' strong arms being wrapped around him holding him close.

"You have to forget them", his father whispered hoarsely, "Or ya'll end up like me." he added, sounding oddly defeated.

Jack hugged his father back, for the first time feeling like he actually had a father.

"I will. I will try."

"Good boy", his father said, releasing him.

"Perhaps you'll meet them again", he added, looking serious, "There's always an afterlife, you know. You just have to believe."

And with that the world around Jack vanished and he fell into a bright abyss impossible for a human mind to comprehend, into a space with no time, no fear, no pain, just peace and happiness, eagerly waiting for his friends to join him, so he could finally apologize for ever doubting them.

**Finis**


End file.
